Chapter Text
The year is 1936 and you have just gotten the results back from your O.W.L.S.
You have failed your final year at Hogwarts.
You gripped the parchment, focusing on your breathing. The letters blurred as your vision tried to settle. Failed. Failed. You didn’t graduate. You wouldn’t be able to use magic. Your wand… Would you still have your wand?
Did it matter?
A seething voice bit from inside of you, and your shoulders dropped, eyes now unseeing. Hollowed out, you willed your body to marionette itself to the window of your family’s shared home. You lived with the neighbors from your parents' old neighborhood, when the war had destroyed your homes and you weren’t even a mild bump in your mother’s womb. For the longest time, you hadn’t realized they weren’t blood related, and you all got along reasonably well.
Your parents however didn’t want you to tell them where you got your schooling. It gave you pause, then slowly, built a wall between you and them. Between you and your own parents. The idea of being something not to be spoken of alienated you in a way you had a hard time processing, because they all showed such care for you, and you them.
But now, it was all for nothing. You wasted several years of your life devoting yourself to something that wouldn’t pan out. Like you were tossed into limbo, where you couldn’t fully dive into either world no matter how hard you tried.
You sat down.
What were you supposed to do now?
It took some time to organize your thoughts, but you had options.
After writing to the headmaster, you were able to schedule a meeting about what was to happen to you. You arrived at the start of the next school year, being accompanied by a teacher you hadn’t been taught by since third year, and walked with a twitch in your chest but straight backed into Dippet’s office.
“Dear, I’m so sorry but I cannot alter this outcome–”
“I’m not asking you to just let me pass, but to retake or–”
“This has been a decision that cannot be altered, my dear, you have been skirting by on a fairy’s wing every year since you arrived, and retaken tests more than the average student. Strings had been pulled on more than one occasion to aid you, should you need reminding–”
Gut wrenching guilt pulled your eyes to the floor. Your stomach felt like a cauldron’s bubble.
“So you have to forgive me when I say that you will not be graduating with your class.” The set of his mouth but wrinkle in his brow told you this wouldn’t be discussed further, though he wished the outcome had been different.
You began to cry.
His hands floundered for a pocket on his jacket. Trying with all your might to stop, it didn’t matter how uncomfortable you became; the burn in your nose didn’t falter, so you had to cover your face and blubber apologies, that you understood, and that you wouldn’t bother him any longer on the subject.
A door opened and you turned with Dippet who had handed you a handkerchief to the latest occupant. Professor Dumbledoor.
Somehow, someway, the professor had argued for your stay in the school, though different than your original intention. He convinced a noticeably reluctant Dippet to keep you on as a staff aide, and to help oversee the care of the library when not assisting the professors. You cried anew at the complete turn of events, having just been accepting your life as at-best a Squib in the wizarding world, and an inexperienced worker and uneducated (socially) woman with the Muggles.
It meant you got to use your wand still (your wide smile lessened marginally at the news), and that you could still learn from the classes, though not as an official student so you wouldn’t get to interrupt or choose where you got to go. You got to stay on the grounds, in a room just a little ways away from the prefect’s dorms. There was no way to tell what it had been for before, but you didn’t really care when you finally sat down on the bed, exhausted from the day.
You had packed enough to last a week, and that was you being very optimistic this morning. That part was bucked and kicked by your realistic front brain that said not to be so audacious, that you’d be carted off after the meeting. It had already taken so much courage to even try, knowing fully well how much leniency you’ve already been granted since arriving. It felt greedy and ungrateful just sitting in that office.
But you couldn’t just throw your hat and call it quits either. Surely everyone understood that you knew better than most how completely hopeless you were as well as outstandingly lucky. You failed the most important tests of your life, yes, but you didn’t get kicked out of the school, nor lose your wand or magic privileges. You had many people in your life that kept you afloat, and sometimes it was a burden you felt you could never repay.
It used to hurt your pride much more, but that old thing has nearly shriveled up and gathered decay.
A breezy laugh, for you accidentally rhymed.